


Pyreflies

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Category: Final Fantasy X, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Al Bhed Prompto, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Ending, FFX AU, Guardian Chocobros, M/M, Summoner Noctis, back to the regularly scheduled misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 12:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: Arriving at the ancient city of Zanarkand, the young summoner Noctis and his three Guardians have little idea of what awaits them within the ruins. Discovering the true nature of the pilgrimage and the Final Aeon, Noctis is forced to make a painful decision.





	Pyreflies

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I've been replaying FFX and thought, given the similarities and contrasts between X and XV, it would be interesting to do an AU with Noctis, Ignis, Gladiolus and Prompto traveling around Spira. The original idea was also an Everyone Lives AU, but... me being me, I immediately started writing an alternate bad ending. Yes, to the fic that I have mostly not written. _Why am I like this?_
> 
> The AU backstories for the characters are, briefly, as follows:  
> Noctis- Son of one of Spira's four Maesters. Having grown up in Bevelle, he is frustrated with the state of Spira and the Yevonite temple's inability to do more than keep Spira hanging on. Discovered he had summoner potential during a stay in Besaid as a child, but spent many years conflicted, knowing that summoners must give their life.  
> Ignis- Also grew up in the Bevelle Temple complex, his family serving Noctis'. Tried to talk Noctis out of being a summoner, but is now committed to at least making sure he finishes his pilgrimage safely.  
> Gladiolus- Son of a family who all offer their services as Guardians, his life goal is to be part of a successful pilgrimage. Also grew up in Bevelle with Noctis and Ignis.  
> Prompto- An orphan with Al Bhed heritage who arrived in Bevelle as a teenager and befriended Noctis, who defended him against anti-Al Bhed prejudice. As a guardian, he uses machina weapons with Noctis' blessing.

There was a small hill that overlooked the ruins of Zanarkand, marked by the burned out campfires of travelers that had come before them, a circular pit of black ashes and charred wood. A cool wind swept through as the evening began to settle in, stirring the dust in swirling eddies. As the sky dimmed, the ruins beneath began to glow faintly with the light of countless pyreflies. Silence had staked its domain here, and it seemed reluctant to be disturbed.

Valefor’s quiet wingbeats broke through the stillness, and as she landed, Noctis leapt from her back, rejoining his friends on the ground.

“I could see the whole city- well the ruins of it, at least. Dome’s up ahead. It’s gonna be a long walk though, and I don’t like the idea of fighting at night.”

“Gonna be crawling with fiends, with all these pyreflies around,” growled Gladio.

“My thoughts exactly.” Ignis stood by the edge of the ridge, arms folded, “I say we make camp. Noct?”

Prompto chimed in first, “Fire. Food. Sleep. Sounds pretty good to me.”

“Yeah,” agreed Noctis. He reached up to pet the ridges of Valefor’s face, and run his hands through the feathers on her neck. She had been his first aeon, and still his favorite of the lot. Despite her fragility, she was nimble and clever, and her presence exuded a strange peacefulness that was beyond him to explain. From the beginning, she had felt like an old friend, while the other aeons, strong and loyal as they may be, felt like foreboding reminders of his fate.

But the day was growing late, and he had already used her to fight his way through the fiends on Gagazet, and to carry him here. He could feel that she did not mind, even when he rode on her back as if she were a common chocobo, but they were both bone-weary, and the thread between them felt worn and strained. He dismissed her, and she beat her broad wings, laboring with the heavy, cool air for a moment before returning to the sky and fading from view. He sat on the ground, rather more heavily than he had intended to.

“How are you feeling?” asked Ignis, as Gladio worked on starting a new fire in the circular pit.

“Fine. Just… long day, you know?” Noctis stretched out his shoulders and back.

“Indeed. I think we could all use a good meal and some rest.”

Prompto had also settled onto the ground, working on cleaning and oiling assorted machinery parts that were fanned out around him. On their quest, his machina weaponry had earned them a vast assortment of stares and dirty looks (Prompto and Noctis were fond of doing exaggerated impressions of their favorites at the end of each day), and even worse from those who had realized he was an Al-Bhed. Only when Noctis spoke up, as the son of the Maester, did people leave them be. He hated using his rank like that, but despised small-minded people even more. There was always the lingering truth that he could not say-  _ do you realize that your beloved church is full of the same machina?  _ He understood well the heavy burden of ruling Spira, and the great pressure on his father and the other maesters, but the hypocrisy still ate at him.

Perhaps that was why he had taken the path of a summoner instead of a maester. Rather than live his life trying to preserve things, he would lose it trying to change them. There were few choices in Spira, and all of them cruel. Many lived and died with no choice at all.

_ If I can change things- _ That had been the thought that begged and nagged at him, ever since he had found out he had the potential to be a summoner.

Lulled by the cool breeze and the glow of the pyreflies, not to mention the exhaustion weighing on his body and mind, he had slipped into a daze which he was only roused from when Ignis placed a bowl of stew in his hands. He looked out over the ruined city as he ate, wondering what lay in store for him there.

The aeons he had obtained were always with him, at the edge of his mind and in his dreams, claws and teeth and horns and wings, ready to burst forth at a moment’s notice. The power coiled within his chest, anchored somewhere beneath his sternum. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it.

And what form would the Final Aeon take? What creature would he call, when he called upon the fayth for the power to defeat Sin? The dragon king, Bahamut, dwelt within him now, and he found it hard to imagine a being that surpassed it. Though the summoners who had called it were enshrined in every temple, there was no name or image given for the creature they had summoned. Even Ignis had found little in his investigations into the pilgrimage, except a cryptic and unhelpful fragment that suggested it might be different for each summoner. At least that was how Ignis interpreted it.

The chill in the air deepened, and he moved to take a place by the campfire, now crackling sharply and casting a flickering light across their weary faces. There was some more idle speculation about what tomorrow might bring, but it was sporadic and without much enthusiasm. Prompto nodded suddenly, dropping a piece of bread into his stew before waking and looking around with a startled expression. Eventually Ignis muttered, “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” and grunting their agreement, they prepared for sleep.

* * *

The dawn was chill and the others still asleep when Noctis awoke, the inside of his skull buzzing with agitated tiredness. He had slept and awoken and slept again, but never rested, body tense on the hard ground. He dragged himself to the edge of the hill again, and sat looking into the misty basin below. The haze diffracted the light of the pyreflies, giving the scenery an eerie glow. As the sun appeared and the temperature rose, the mist began to dissipate, draining away.

Ignis was the next of them to rise, waking at his usual time shortly after dawn. He had quietly made his way to the ridge where Noctis was sitting and stood there until the young summoner jerked in surprise at his apparently sudden appearance.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah. Just gave up after a while.” Noctis sat staring into space, his head leaning on one hand.

Ignis clicked his tongue in a noise of mild concern.

“I’ll prepare breakfast. Try to rest, for now.”

“Easier said than done, Specs.”

Ignis fussed over the embers of their campfire, bringing it back up to a merry blaze with a snap of his fingers and a spark of magic. Eventually Noctis tore his eyes away from the ruins below and returned to the campsite, lying on his side some distance from the fire and curling his body slightly around it. He wasn’t exactly asleep, but fell into a pleasant stupor, roused only when Ignis nudged his shoulder and pushed a bowl of porridge flavored with honey and cinnamon into his hands. He watched the flames idly as he ate, lifting his hand in a wave when he saw the others rise and make their way to the fireside.

“Check all your equipment and supplies,” said Gladio. “There’s gonna be some big fiends down there. Can’t have anyone fumbling a potion.”

“I spilled one,” muttered Prompto in exaggerated offense, “ _ once. _ And I still haven’t heard any thanks for all the Al-Bhed potions I’ve been administering.”

Gladio snorted, “That’s cause you’re the one who needs them all. No wonder you brought a personal supply.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that our medical knowledge is more advanced than anywhere else in Spira. I’ll leave you to your Yevon-approved curatives, then.”

“Guys,” Noctis said. He knew their idle bickering was just a way to blow off steam, but was running on far too little sleep to deal with it. There was a grunted noise that might have been an apology, then everyone returned to the important task of putting breakfast into their faces. Ignis was looking into his bowl pensively, and when his eyes met with Noctis’ across the campfire, there was something in them that was unguarded and hard to define. He knew Ignis worried about him, worried about this pilgrimage, and was about to say something, but when he looked back, his guardian’s expression had returned to the usual poker face.

There was no particular comfort to be found on the hill, no need to remain, and so, once they had readied their things, they moved onward.

* * *

The road had always been difficult, and they’d always pushed forward, together. The fiends in Zanarkand were stronger than anything that had come before, strengthened by the masses of swirling pyreflies and a thousand years of grief. It hung heavy in the air, formless but almost bitter at the backs of their throats, the feeling of a sob caught that could never be breathed out. Now and then, ghostly visions nagged at the corners of their eyes, strangers begging for recognition, an acknowledgement that their lives were lived, and when the four turned away, for they could not watch forever, fiends inevitably erupted from the path before them. Prompto fired a machina weapon, piercing through the bulging eye of an Ahriman, and Gladio cleaved the skull of a dual horn with his greatsword. A behemoth charged at them from mist and rubble, and Noctis was forced to call Ifrit to face it. As the two beasts clashed, roaring and breathing fire, tearing at each other with their teeth and claws, he was struck by the similarities between the two. One had given their life willingly to the fight, while the other had died in pain and despair, but it was the same pyreflies that gave both their energy and form. The behemoth forced the aeon to the ground, but Ifrit snapped his great jaws around its throat, kicking out with his hind legs and opening the fiend’s abdomen. Dark blood spilled across the ground. There was a roar, and a fireball blasted off most of the behemoth’s head. When Noctis dismissed Ifrit, the aeon’s muzzle and fur were splattered and slick with gore. As they watched, it all vanished in a burst of pyreflies. Once again, only the ruins remained.

* * *

The road to the dome was well-worn, to the point where it could be said that it was the only road remaining in Zanarkand. Rubble, time and fiends had filled in the rest. But the path that the summoners walked was clear, if not exactly welcoming.

They stopped to rest just outside the dome, retrieving cloth-wrapped packages of flatbread and dried meat from inside their robes and pockets. Though it was the others that insisted on a meal, Noctis knew it was for his benefit, he had a tendency to pass out after receiving a new aeon that his companions found disconcerting. Privately, he had his doubts that food would make any difference, it was a matter of spiritual energy, but he sat and forced down what was hopefully an acceptable amount of rations anyway. He ate slowly, lacking appetite.

“Ready to face the Trials?” Gladio put on a grin as he spoke, which Noctis could tell was also for his benefit. He nodded in response.

“Course I am. You know how much I love this cryptic temple bullshit.”

Prompto choked back a laugh, while Ignis looked like he was restraining the urge to chide Noctis for blaspheming while in Zanarkand, but no one disagreed. They made their way into the center of the dome, and stepped forward onto the panels that glowed beneath them.

* * *

They passed through the Trials, and the temple itself led them down into the earth, a circular dais lowering under their feet. Blinking, they looked around the dim and dusty chamber. Like the other temples, a great dome of crystal sat embedded in the floor, but it was dull and lifeless, cracks and gouges spreading across the surface. Within it could be seen the shadow of what might have been a fayth, but there was no voice to sing the praises of Yevon.

“What the hell is this?” Noctis’ voice was unsteady, as he looked around the faces of his friends, all sharing the same horror.

“That… can’t be the final aeon, can it?” Prompto asked no one in particular.

“Can’t be. Damn thing’s  _ dead, _ ” Gladio was as shaken as the rest of them.

Voices began to speak from around them, hollow echoes of the long dead.

_ “Long has it been, since Lord Zaon sang here. He who became a fayth, the first to conquer Sin. With his love for Lady Yunalesca, the final summoning was completed. Now the husk is all that remains. His soul is gone.” _

“Lord Zaon…?” Ignis peered through his glasses at the form in the crystal, as if trying to determine if it were true.

“How can we complete the final summoning then?” Prompto asked.

_ “Press on, summoner, and do not fear. Lady Yunalesca shall guide you. Within the halls, she awaits.” _

A sole doorway led forward from the Chamber of the Fayth. There was no turning back.

* * *

They emerged from the ruined chamber, into a hall that was still bright and colorful. From an indeterminable location, a choir of voices sang the Hymn, voices distant and reedy. Before them stood a woman, nearly bare but for the jewelry and embroidered ribbons that adorned her body, and the silver hair that spilled over her shoulders and reached to the ground. Even for a dead woman, her demeanour was cold.

“Lady Yunalesca,” said Noctis, bowing stiffly.

“I congratulate you, summoner, on completing your pilgrimage. I am sure that you and your companions have developed true bonds on your journey, the bonds that are born from a struggle of life and death.”

“I trust them all with my life,” said Noctis, head still bowed. “They are my brothers.” And perhaps he emphasized that part a little more than necessary. He didn’t like the way she was looking at Gladio, Prompto and Ignis, as though she had claim to them.

“Of course they are. You have been granted a wealth of choices.” The gold in her eyes was a shimmer of the Farplane, a crackle of distant lightning.

“What?”

“You must choose the one whom I will change, to become the fayth of the final summoning.” Noctis was staring at her with abject horror now, but she continued. “The final summoning is an embodiment of the bond between two souls, husband and wife, mother and child, brothers in arms. There is no greater power, and nothing else that can defeat Sin.”

“You want me… to sacrifice them?” The words were heavy and had to be forced from his dry throat.

“One of them, yes. Choose well. The strength of your bond will determine your fate. Whether you will succeed in defeating Sin, or die in vain.” She gave him a doleful look, one that might have conveyed a hint of sympathy, when she was alive. “Now, which will you give to me?”

“You can have  _ none of them, _ ” Noctis replied, voice trembling with fury. “I came here because I was willing to sacrifice  _ myself. _ If it would stop Sin. If it would give the people a chance. But I’d never ask anyone to die for me! That goes against everything I’ve fought for… everything I believed… How can you do this…? How does this make sense…?”

“Oh, how the living try to resist death,” she murmured. “You do not yet understand. What I offer is freedom from sorrow and pain. You will be granted that soon enough. But you cannot go alone. You must take someone with you.”

“Like hell I will,” growled Noctis.

Around them, the pyreflies began to shiver, their gentle swirling growing fiercer and agitated.

“Think well, summoner. Do not be rash. The journey is difficult and painful, but a peaceful end will come soon enough.”

“Don’t you get it!? None of us  _ want _ to die! What peace is there in that!?”

“The only one that exists. No Calm lasts forever, not in Spira.” She was unblinking.

“So you want us to lie down and give up?”

“On the contrary. You must fight. Only through the final summoning can Spira’s hope be kept alive.”

“Through our deaths.”

“Precisely.” There was a quiet clink of jewelry as she shifted.

Noctis took a breath and squared his shoulders.

“I refuse.” He turned to the others. “Come on. We’re leaving.” He was shaking, fists clenched white, stomach churning. All he had come here for was a lie. But there would be time to give in to grief, time to break down, when they had left this place far behind.

The pyreflies took form, serpentine shapes bursting forth, black and shimmering, blocking the exit. Yunalesca’s chill voice filled the space.

“Once you have come this far, there is no turning back. To do so is to throw away hope entirely. I cannot allow it.”

Noctis had no more to say to her. “Guys.” His voice was low. “We fight our way out.”

Ignis had his daggers drawn in an instant, slicing through a snake as it lunged for him. With a swing of Gladio’s sword, the serpent’s heads rained down. But more burst forth from the ground beneath them.

“Then let me be your liberator. A summoner who will not fight Sin is nothing. Only the worthy may stand here.”

The twisting forms curled their way up Noctis’ leg, holding him to the ground. He heard a yelp from Prompto, followed by gunshots. There was a gasp from Ignis and a furious roar from Gladio, as they, too, were seized and struggled. He called to Valefor, and she appeared in a burst of light and unfurled wings, only to be struck down with a blast of Yunalesca’s power, dissolving into pyreflies.

“Is this truly what you desire?” said Yunalesca, as they fought to free themselves. “Will you not act, that two of your friends might be saved? Is this not the core teaching of the pilgrimage, that lives can be sacrificed for the good of the many?”

“Don’t listen to her, Noct,” shouted Gladio, “If we die, we die fighting. All of us!” He struck at the writhing shapes that bound him, again and again and again.

“I’d rather not die!” cried Prompto, “But I’m with you on the fighting. Hold on, Noct!” His guns were having little effect, so he had switched to a saw-like machine with a whirring blade, hacking at the tendrils, and spattering the floor with rust-colored blood.

Ignis silently adjusted his glasses. There was a burst of flame, the serpents shrieked and sizzled, falling to the floor in twitching piles. In an instant, he had Noctis by the wrist and was dragging him to the door. But in that same instant, their way was once again blocked. Death’s-heads grinned at them from the ends of worm-like bodies, as thick around as his waist.

They turned, and there Yunalesca stood, watching them, what had been her hair now a pulsating mass of flesh rooted into the ground. More snapping, serpent-like jaws surged forth, and a terror raced through Noctis. Yunalesca was not the woman standing before him. She was everything in this place, a thousand year symphony of death and rot, extending below the earth and beyond the walls. Every man, woman, child and beast who had died here had left their despair and rage in the shimmering pyreflies. It all answered to her.

“Stop!” cried Ignis, and the intensity in his voice caused all present to turn to him.

“If it is a sacrifice you want, then I will give it,” he breathed. “But you will let them go.”

“Ignis, don’t!” Noct shouted, but he was drowned out by Gladio’s roar of, “Have you lost your mind!?”

Yunalesca locked eyes with Ignis, and though he stared back, Noctis could see his hand trembling slightly around the hilt of his dagger.

“You want to make one of us into a fayth, correct? And if you do, Noct will obtain the final summoning? You’ll release him, to fight Sin?”

“Yes,” responded Yunalesca calmly, “That is my purpose.”

“Alright. Then it’s settled. Take me.”

“Don’t you touch him!” shouted Noctis.

Yunalesca shook her head. “It is the summoner whom I deal with. And it seems your summoner objects.”

Ignis’ shoulders sank forward slightly, and he turned to Noctis.

“Noct…”

“There’s no way in hell, Iggy. I won’t give you to her. To anyone. Gladio’s right. We fight our way out or die trying.”

“I don’t want you to die!” Ignis cried out, and Noctis couldn’t remember the last time he’d raised his voice, “All this time, I-”

“How am I supposed to live with myself if-” Noctis yelled over him, before they were both interrupted by a new onslaught of fiends. Face to face with a grinning skull, he leapt back, only for tendrils to wind around his legs, and snake fangs to sink into his calf. He screamed as if someone had driven a red hot nail into his flesh, and sank to one knee as the leg gave way under him. Ignis charged towards him, only to be knocked back by a writhing mass of snakes. He was quickly hidden from view, but Noctis saw one of his daggers spin across the floor. He caught a glimpse of Prompto, caught and torn between snapping jaws, pale and limp and bloodied. He heard Gladio’s furious shout cut off, replaced by choking, gasping, and then a terrible silence. The burning pain was travelling up his now-useless leg, while everything from the knee down had been replaced with an absent numbness. His heartbeat was wild and fluttering, while the rest of his body slowed and his vision began to darken at the edges.

_ Not here. Not like this. We can’t all die here. We can’t- _

He forced himself to his knees, heavier than the stone he sat on, colder than the mausoleum around them, and spoke words he knew he would regret for the brief remainder of his life.

“I accept.”

It all stopped. Yunalesca approached, and the fiends cleared a path for her. She reached out to stroke one of the death’s-heads as she passed, and it burst into pyreflies. Noctis felt a glimmer of healing magic pass through him, and his breathing steadied, though he knew she was nowhere near foolish enough to return their full strength. He struggled to his feet.

“You have made your choice, then?”

“I guess I have.” And he knew there was no turning back, now that all knew the choice he was willing to make in a desperate moment. He could never take it back. Even if they all died now, they’d die knowing him for what he really was.  _ And I’d deserve it. _

Ignis had risen, a single dagger still held in one hand, not bothering to retrieve the other. He was already making his way forward. Noctis could feel Gladio’s furious gaze burning into both of them, but his guardian made no move to stop the grim procession. Prompto was deathly silent, looking even paler than he had moments before, arms clasped around himself like a lost child.

“I’ll do it.” His voice was surprisingly clear when he spoke. “You- you need Iggy, Noct. He’s important. More than I am. So I should be the one to-”

“If you do this,” said Gladio, “it’s your choice. I might not agree with you, but… My life has always been yours. I follow where you lead. So  _ lead. _ ”

Noctis clenched his hands in an attempt to stop them from shaking, which only made him tremble more.

_ The more I love them, the more powerful the aeon will be. More of a chance that I can defeat Sin. That this- this horror- won’t all be for nothing. That they didn’t die in vain. But- how is this fair? Tell me, how can I do this? _

“Iggy,” he said, his voice barely a breath, “You don’t have to-”

Ignis turned back to look at him, the slightest smile visible on his face.

“Noct… from the moment I decided to become a guardian, I knew. That someday, it might come to this. I was prepared from the beginning to give my life, if it meant that you could safely finish your pilgrimage.”

His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, an unsuccessful attempt to hide the tears running down his face. It had been a long time since Noctis had seen Ignis cry, and the sight made everything in his chest clench painfully.

“I must confess that I always hoped… there would be another way. That Sin could be defeated without the need for you to give your life. That I could share that world with you. And perhaps… this is the way. If I become an aeon, it might grant me some insight. Some knowledge that we’ve missed. That there could be something… Allow me that hope, that I might still save you.”

“Ignis…” Noctis’ heart sank, he knew that expression all too well. Under the calm surface, he could see the determination settling in Ignis’ eyes, and knew there would be no persuading him now. He’d already lost him.

“Our journey together was full of wonderful things. I thank all of you.” He bowed his head slightly, before meeting each of their gazes with a smile. He moved to face Yunalesca, and his voice was slightly muffled as he turned away from them.

“If this is how it ends, I have no regrets.”

And with that, he straightened his shoulders and stepped forward. As he stood before the ancient summoner, she looked down at him, imperious and unmoving, his tall frame suddenly seemed very small. He gave Yunalesca the slightest of nods, and she moved like a viper, striking him down where he stood.

Before his body could hit the ground, crystals erupted in shimmering tendrils and surrounded him, encasing him like the fayth they had seen in so many temples. It was a terrible thing to watch, something living turn so cold and silent. Yet every one of those fayth he had touched had been a human life, someone who had lived and loved and journeyed with their friends, only to arrive at the same end.

Perhaps this was the price he paid, for ever being willing to use such a power.

Yunalesca opened her golden eyes.

“It is done.”

And a voice was added to the eternal chorus.

* * *

He felt as though another thread had been attached to his heart, a hook caught within his chest. Unwilling and yet unable to resist, he pulled it in, calling out in his mind, and a drop of light fell, the air around it shimmering and rippling before blossoming into a ring of flame. The creature emerged, spreading bright wings, and Noctis would have called it beautiful if the very sight of it didn’t make him want to vomit.

It was small, by aeon standards, larger than Shiva but a touch smaller than even Valefor. The body was perhaps roughly human-sized, and the wings long and broad like those of an eagle, but the swan-like curve of the neck made it difficult to judge its full height. The feathers were flame-red and orange along the upper edge of its wings, glowing blue-hot at the tips of the feathers, which were pointed like knives. Also glowing was the crest on the head, and the long train of feathers it carried behind it, swaying in the rising column of hot air and shimmering iridescent colors. The claws and beak gleamed like polished blades. It blinked, a pale membrane flicking across from the corner of green eyes, rimmed with black scales. Then it fixed its piercing gaze on Noctis.

_ Phoenix. _

The name rose unspoken inside his chest, as though it had simply tugged on the thread connected to his heart.

Yunalesca seemed proud of her handiwork, the smile on her face creasing her eyes for the first time, though her voice was still low and frosty.

“Be glad, summoner, for someone gave their life for you. You must honor their sacrifice. Go forth with my blessing, and defeat Sin.”

* * *

He left, knowing he had nothing to say that he and his friends would not regret further. There was a stony silence from Gladio, and further back he could hear Prompto’s breath hitching with choked-back sobs.The aeon followed him, gliding as silently as the tears down his cheeks as they left the dome. When they were outside, he reached up, and as the aeon leaned into his touch, he pressed his forehead against its feathered brow.

“I’m gonna live. I swear. We’re going to beat Sin, together. And when we come back here, I’ll  _ kill _ her. No one- No one else will have to do this. I won’t let her murder anyone else. I promise. I promise. I-”

He sank to his knees, letting go of the summoning, and the aeon beat its wings and vanished into the sky. Around him, the pyreflies stirred in the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand you can decide if Noctis will be able to keep that promise or not. 
> 
> I'd like to note that, although the game states that summoning the Final Aeon is fatal, there's also evidence that this isn't entirely true... Seymour can summon Anima without any trouble. What actually kills the summoner is Yu Yevon severing their connection with the Final Aeon to steal it and make a new Sin. (And I wanted to have Phoenix actually appear in the fic.)
> 
> Unfortunately that means that Phoenix!Ignis probably won't be able to revive Noctis, since he'll be possessed by Yevon at that point. And then he'll have to be Sin until the next summoner comes along...
> 
> I make myself sad.


End file.
